CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
A Horrible Situation.
All that night our fugitives walked steadily in the direction of theirguiding-star, until the dawn of day began to absorb its light. Thenthey selected a couple of prominent bushes on the horizon, and, bykeeping these always in their relative positions, were enabled to shapetheir course in what they believed to be the right direction. Byrepeating the process continuously they were enabled to advance in afairly straight line.
Molloy, as we have said, carried the provision bag, and, although it wasa very heavy one, he refused to let his comrades relieve him of it untilbreakfast-time. Then it was discovered that inside of the large bagthere were rolled tight up four smaller bags with shoulder-straps tothem.
"A knowin' feller that Mohammed is," said Jack Molloy, as he handed abag to each; "he understands how to manage things. Let's see what sorto' grub he has. Corn-cakes, I do believe, an' dates, or some sort o'dried fruit, an'--water-bottles! well, that is a comfort. Now then,boys, go ahead. We can't afford to waste time over our meals."
The others so thoroughly agreed with their friend on this point thatthey began to eat forthwith, almost in silence. Then, the provisionshaving been distributed, they resumed their march, which was almost aforced one, so anxious were they to get as far away as possible from theArab army.
Coming to a large mimosa bush in the course of the morning they haltedand sat down to rest a little, and hold what the sailor called a"palaver."
"You see, boys," he said, "it'll be of no manner of use our scuddin'away before the wind under a press o' canvas like this, without somesettled plan--"
"Ain't our plan to git away from the Arabs as fast as we can?" saidMoses Pyne, who sat on a stone at the sailor's feet.
"Yes, Moses, but that's only part of it," returned Molloy. "We mustkeep away as well as get away--an' that won't be quite so easy, for thecountry is swarmin' wi' the dark-skinned rascals, as the many tracks wehave already passed shows us. If we was to fall in wi' a band of 'em--even a small one--we would be took again for sartin', for we've gotnothin' to fight wi' but our fists."
"These would offer but poor resistance to bullet and steel," saidArmstrong, "and that lance you're so fond of, Miles, wouldn't be worthmuch."
"Not much," admitted Miles, surveying the badge of his late office, "butbetter than nothing."
"What if the Arabs should change their course and fall in with usagain?" asked Moses.
"No fear o' that, seein' that Mohammed himself gave us our sailin'orders, an' laid our course for us; but it would never do to fall in wi'other bands, so I proposes that we cast anchor where we are, for there'spretty good holdin' ground among them bushes, keep quiet all day, an'travel only at night. I've got the krect bearin's just now, so w'en thestars come out we'll be able to fix on one layin' in the rightdirection, and clap on all sail, slow and aloft--stu'n s'ls,sky-scrapers, an' all the rest on it."
"A good plan, Jack," said Armstrong, "but what if it should come cloudyand blot out the stars?"
"Besides," added Miles, "you forget that men of the desert are skilledin observing signs and in following tracks. Should any of them passnear this little clump of bushes, and observe our footsteps goingtowards it, they will at once come to see if we are still here."
Molloy put his head on one side and looked perplexed for a moment.
"Never mind. Let 'em come," he said, with a sudden look of sagacity,"we'll circumwent 'em. There's nothin' like circumwention w'en you'vegot into a fix. See here. We'll dig a hole in a sandbank big enough tohold us all, an' we'll cut a big bush an' stick it in front of the holeso as they'll never see it. We can keep a bright look-out, you know,an' if anything heaves in sight on the horizon, down we go into thehole, stick up the bush, an there you are--all safe under hatches tillthe enemy clears off."
"But they will trace our footsteps up to the hole or the bush," saidMiles, "and wonder why they can trace them no further. What then?"
Again the seaman fell into perplexed meditation, out of which he emergedwith a beaming smile.
"Why, then, my lad, we'll bamboozle 'em. There's nothin' likebamboozlement w'en circumwention fails. Putt the two together an'they're like a hurricane in the tropics, carries all before it! We'llbamboozle 'em by runnin' for an hour or two all over the place, so as nomortal man seein' our footprints will be able to tell where we comedfrom, or what we've bin a-doin' of."
"You don't know the men of the desert, Jack," rejoined Miles, with alaugh. "They'd just walk in a circle round the place where you proposeto run about and bamboozle them, till they found where our tracks_entered_ this bit of bush. Then, as they'd see no tracks _leaving_ it,of course they'd know that we were still there. D'you see?"
"That's a puzzler for you, Jack," remarked Moses, as he watched theperplexed expression looming up again like a cloud on the sailor's face.
"By no manner o' means," retorted Molloy, with sudden gravity. "I seesmy way quite clear out o' that. You remember the broad track, not halfa mile off from where we now sit?"
"Yes; made I suppose by a pretty big band o' some sort crossin' thedesert," said Moses.
"Well, lad, arter runnin' about in the bush to bamboozle of 'em, asaforesaid, we'll march back to that track on the sou'-west'ard--as itmay be--an' then do the same on the nor'-west'ard--so to speak--an' solead 'em to suppose we was a small party as broke off, or was sent off,from the main body to reconnoitre the bit o' bush, an' had rejoined themain body further on. That's what I call circumwentin', d'ee see?"
While this palaver was going on, Stevenson and Bill Simkin were standinga short way off taking observation of something in the far distance. Ina few minutes they ran towards their comrades with the information thata band of men were visible on the horizon, moving, they thought, in anopposite direction to their line of march.
"It may be so," said Miles, after a brief survey, "but we can't be sure.We must put part of your plan in force anyhow, Jack Molloy. Away intothe scrub all of you, and stoop as you go."
In saying this, our hero, almost unintentionally, took command of thelittle party, which at once tacitly accorded him the position. Leadingthem--as every leader ought--he proceeded to the centre of the clump ofbushes, where, finding a natural hollow or hole in the sand, at the rootof a mimosa bush, three of them went down on hands and knees to scoop itout deeper, while the others cut branches with Molloy's clasp-knife.
Using flat stones, chips of wood, and hands as shovels, they managed todig out a hole big enough to conceal them all, the opening to which waseasily covered by a mass of branches.
It is doubtful whether this ingenious contrivance would have availedthem, if "men of the desert" had passed that way, but fortune favouredthem. The band, whether friends or foes, passed far off to thewestward, leaving them to enjoy their place of fancied security.
To pass the first day there was not difficult. The novelty of theposition was great; the interest of the thing immense. Indefinite hopesof the future were strong, and they had plenty to say and speculateabout during the passing hours. When night came, preparation was madefor departure. The provision bags were slung, a moderate sip of waterindulged in, and they set forth, after a very brief prayer by Stevenson,that God would guide them safely on their way. There was no formalityin that prayer. The marine did not ask his comrades to kneel or toagree with him. He offered it aloud, in a few seconds, in the name ofJesus, leaving his hearers to join him or not as they pleased.
"See that you lay your course fair now, Molloy," said Miles, as theysallied out upon the darkening plain.
"Trust me, lad, I've taken my bearin's."
It was very dark the first part of the night, as the moon did not risetill late, but there was quite enough light to enable them to proceedwith caution, though not enough to prevent their taking an occasionalbush or stump for an advancing foe. All went well, however, until dawnthe following morning, when they began to look about for a suitableclump of bushes, in which to conceal th
emselves. No such spot couldthey find.
"Never mind, lads," said the inexhaustible Molloy, "we'll just go ontill we find a place. We're pretty tough just now, that's one comfort."
They were indeed so tough that they went the whole of that day, withonly one or two brief halts to feed. Towards evening, however, theybegan to feel wearied, and, with one consent, determined to encamp on aslight eminence a short way in advance, the sides of which were coveredwith low scrub.
As they approached the spot an unpleasant odour reached them. It becameworse as they advanced. At last, on arriving, they found to theirsurprise and horror that the spot had been a recent battle-field, andwas strewn with corpses and broken weapons. Some days must have elapsedsince the fight which strewed them there, for the bodies had been allstripped, and many of them were partially buried, while others had beenhauled half out of their graves by those scavengers of the desert,hyenas and vultures.
"Impossible to halt here," said Armstrong. "I never witness a sightlike this that it does not force on me the madness of warfare! Whatterritorial gain can make up for these lost lives--the flower of themanhood of both parties?"
"But what are we to do?" objected Molloy. "Men must defend theirrights!"
"Not necessarily so," said Stevenson. "Men have to learn to bear andforbear."
"I have learned to take advantage of what luck throws in my way," saidRattling Bill, picking up a rifle which must have escaped theobservation of the plunderers who had followed the army.
The body of the poor fellow who had owned it was found concealed under abush not far off. He was an English soldier, and a very briefinspection showed that the battle had been fought by a party of Britishand Egyptian troops against the Soudanese.
It seemed as if the plunderers had on this occasion been scared fromtheir horrible work before completing it, for after a careful searchthey found rifles with bayonets, and pouches full of ammunition, morethan sufficient to arm the whole party.
"There are uniforms enough, too, to fit us all out," said Simkin, asthey were about to leave the scene of slaughter.
"No dead men's clo'es for me," said Moses Pyne, with a shrug of disgust.
Jack Molloy declared that he had become so used to loose cotton drawers,and an easy-fittin' sack, that for his part he had no desire to go backto civilised costume! and as the rest were of much the same opinion, nochange was made in the habiliments of the party, except that eachappropriated a pair of boots, and Miles exchanged his green tippet for aflannel shirt and a pith helmet. He also took a revolver, with somedifficulty, from the dead hand of a soldier, and stuck it in his belt.
Thus improved in circumstances, they gladly quitted the ghastly scene,and made for a bushy hillock a few hundred yards in advance.
On the way they were arrested by the sound of distant firing.
"Mohammed must have met our countrymen!" exclaimed Molloy, with excitedlooks, as they halted to listen.
"It may be so, but there are other bands about besides his," said Miles."What's that? a cheer?"
"Ay, a British cheer in the far distance, replied to by yells ofdefiance." Molloy echoed the cheer in spite of his better judgment.
"Let's run an' jine 'em!" he exclaimed.
"Come along, then!" cried Miles, with the ardour of inexperienced youth.
"Stop! are ye mad?" cried Stevenson. "Don't it stand to reason that theenemy must be between us an' Suakim? and that's the same as sayin'they're between us an' our friends. Moreover, the cheerin' proves thatour side must be gettin' the best of it, an' are drivin' the enemy thisway, so all we've got to do is to hide on that hillock an' bide ourtime."
"Right you are, comrade," cried Rattling Bill, examining his cartridges,and asserting with an oath that nothing would afford him greaterpleasure than a good hand-to-hand fight with the black, (and somethingworse), scoundrels.
"Don't swear at your enemies, Simkin," said the marine quietly; "butwhen you get the chance fire low!"
Agreeing with Stevenson's advice to "bide their time," the little bandwas soon on the top of the hillock, and took up the best position fordefending the place, also for observing the fight, which, they could nowsee, was drawing gradually nearer to them.
They were not kept waiting long, for the natives were in full flight,hotly pursued by the English and Indian cavalry. A slight breezeblowing from the north carried not only the noise, but soon the smoke ofthe combat towards them. As they drew nearer a large detachment ofnative spearmen was seen to make for the hillock, evidently intending tomake a stand there.
"Now comes _our_ turn," said Armstrong, examining the lock of his rifleto see that all was right.
"`England expec's every man,' etceterer," said Molloy, with a glance atMiles. "Capting, you may as well let us know your plans, so as we maywork together."
Miles was not long in making up his mind.
"You'll fire at first by command," he said quickly, but decidedly; "thendown on your faces flat, and load. After that wait for orders. When itcomes to the push--as it's sure to do at last--we'll stand back to backand do our best. God help us to do it well! Don't hurry, boys--especially in square. Let every shot tell."
He had barely concluded this brief address when the yelling savagesreached the hillock. Miles could even see the gleaming of their teethand eyes, and the blood of the slightly wounded coursing down theirblack skins as they rushed panting towards the place where he and hislittle party were crouching. Then he gave the word: "Ready--present!"
The smoke, fire, and death to the leading men, which belched from thebushes, did not check the rush for more than a moment. And even thatcheck was the result of surprise more than fear. A party of those Arabswho were armed with rifles instantly replied, but the bullets passedharmlessly over the prostrate men.
Again the voice of Miles was heard: "Ready--present!" and again theleading men of the enemy fell, but the rushing host only divided, andswept round the hillock, so as to take it on both sides at once.
"Now--form square! and pick each man," cried Miles, springing up andstanding back to back with Armstrong. Molloy stood shoulder to shoulderwith him and backed Bill Simkin, while Stevenson did the same for MosesPyne. The bushes did not rise much above their waists, and as the duskyhost suddenly beheld the knot of strange-looking men, whose bristlingbayonets glistened in the setting sunshine, and whose active rifles werestill dealing death among their ranks, they dashed at the hill-top witha yell of mingled rage and surprise. Another moment and spearmen weredancing round the little square like incarnate fiends, but the white menmade no sound. Each confined himself to two acts--namely, load andfire--and at every shot a foremost savage fell, until the square becameencircled with dead men.
Another moment and a party of Arab riflemen ran to the front and tookaim. Just then a tremendous cheer was heard. The defenders of thehillock made a wild reply, which was drowned in a furious fusillade.The entire savage host seemed to rush over the spot, sweeping all beforeit, while smoke rolled after them as well as lead and fire. In themidst of the hideous turmoil, Miles received a blow which shattered hisleft wrist. Grasping his rifle with his right hand he laid about him asbest he could. Next moment a blow on the head from behind stretched himsenseless on the ground.
The return of our hero to consciousness revealed to him that he wasstill lying on the battle-field, that it was night, and that anintolerable weight oppressed his chest. This last was caused by a deadnative having fallen across him. On trying to get rid of the corpse hemade the further discovery that nearly all his strength was gone, andthat he could scarcely move his right arm, although it was free, and, asfar as he could make out, unwounded. Making a desperate effort, hepartially relieved himself, and, raising his head, tried to look round.His ears had already told him that near to him wounded men were groaningaway the little of life that remained to them; he now saw that he wassurrounded by heaps of dead men. Excepting the groans referred to, thenight was silent, and the moon shone down on hundreds of up-tu
rnedfaces--the bloodless grey of the black men contrasting strangely withthe deadly pallor of the white, all quiet and passionless enough now--here and there the head of a warrior resting peacefully on the bosom orshoulder of the foe who had killed him!
A slight noise on his right caused Miles to turn his head in thatdirection, where he saw a wounded comrade make feeble efforts to raisehimself, and then fall back with a deep groan. In other circumstancesour hero would have sprung to his assistance, but at that moment he feltas if absolutely helpless; indeed, he was nearly so from loss of blood.He made one or two efforts to rise, but the weight of the dead man heldhim down, and after a few brief attempts he fainted.
Recovering again, he looked round, attracted by the sound of a struggleon his right. One of those fiends in human form, the plunderers of abattle-field, had, in his ghoulish progress, come across the wounded manwho lay close to Miles, and the man was resisting him. The other put aquick end to the strife by drawing a knife across the throat of the poorfellow. A horror of great darkness seemed to overwhelm Miles as he sawthe blood gush in a deluge from the gaping wound. He tried to shout,but, as in a nightmare, he could neither speak nor move.
As the murderer went on rifling his victim, Miles partially recoveredfrom his trance of horror, and anxiety for his own life nerved him toattempt action of some sort. He thought of the revolver for the firsttime at that moment, and the remembrance seemed to infuse new life intohim. Putting his right hand to his belt, he found it there, but drew itwith difficulty. Doubting his power to discharge it by means of thetrigger alone, he made a desperate effort and cocked it.
The click made the murderer start. He raised himself and looked round.Our hero shut his eyes and lay perfectly still. Supposing probably thathe must have been mistaken, the man resumed his work. Miles could haveeasily shot him where he kneeled if he had retained power to lift hisarm and take an aim. As it was, he had strength only to retain theweapon in his grasp.
After a short time, that seemed an age to the helpless watcher, themurderer rose and turned his attention to another dead man, but passinghim, came towards Miles, whose spirit turned for one moment to God in anagonising prayer for help. The help came in the form of revivedcourage. Calm, cool, firm self-possession seemed to overbear all otherfeelings. He half closed his eyes as the murderer approached, andgently turned the muzzle of the revolver upwards. He even let the manbend over him and look close into his face to see if he were dead, thenhe pulled the trigger.
Miles had aimed, he thought, at the man's breast, but the bullet enteredunder his chin and went crashing into his brain. A gush of warm bloodspouted over Miles's face as the wretch plunged over him, head first,and fell close by his side. He did not die at once. The nature of theground prevented Miles from seeing him, but he could hear him graduallygasp his life away.
A few minutes later and footsteps were heard ascending the hillock.Miles grasped his revolver with a hand that now trembled from increasingweakness, but he was by that time unable to put the weapon on full cock.Despair had well-nigh seized him, when a familiar voice was heard.
"This way, lads. I'm sure it was hereabouts that I saw the flash."
"Macleod!" gasped Miles, as the big Scotsman was about to pass.
"Losh me! John Miles, is that you? Are ye leevin?"
"Scarcely!" was all that the poor youth could utter ere he became againinsensible.
A fatigue party tramped up with a stretcher at the moment. Macleod witha handkerchief checked the ebbing tide of life, and they bore away fromthe bloody field what seemed little more than the mortal remains of poorMiles Milton.